


It’s Catching

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Awesome Dean Winchester, Brotherly Affection, Common Cold, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sneezing, The Impala (Supernatural), Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Dean is getting a cold. He hasn't got the first idea where it's come from but whatever, he's got it now, he's gonna have to deal with it.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Keep Your Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This is another two-shot with my favorite brothers with some Bobby and Cas sprinkled in. It won’t be overly long and it’s full of fluff, but it was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Slight warning for talk of wounds and injury.

As far as he's concerned, it's a no-brainer. Sam's working back days worth of sleep debt, plus his rib is cracked, and it's painful just to move around, never mind if he was coughing and sneezing... plus didn't he read something about colds and broken ribs leading to pneumonia? Yep. It's settled. Sam can't catch this from him. He's gonna have to stay out of the way.

And it sounds like a good plan, except Sam is also exhausted, injured, and just about paper-weak. He needs someone. Dean's instinct is to go to Bobby, or Ellen, even Cas, but, well...

Looks like Dean is all Sam's got, and he's gonna have some choices to make.

Dean knew that he was getting sick. It was the little signs that he noticed at first; the sore throat, pounding in his sinuses, wet cough, and of course.....the incessant sneezing that would not let up. He wasn't exactly sure where he had caught one of the worst colds that he had had in years, but he did know that Sam could not, could not, catch it. He would probably rather have this cold for an entire year than have Sam catch it, especially now.

Normally he wouldn't want Sam to catch whatever he had, but it was inevitable. If one of them would come down with something, then the other would follow in suit. It wasn't that they deliberately tried to get the other sick, but there was really nothing that they could do to prevent it. Spending days and nights in a motel with someone didn't exactly leave room not to run into each other. They shared a bathroom, a kitchen, sleeping space, and not to mention the Impala. There was nowhere to go in there. They were both used to it happening by now, but this time was different.

Sam and Dean had just wrapped up a rather routine case dealing with a Wendigo. It should have been a simple case, but they were never that lucky. Sam had been fumbling with the lighter and the Wendigo had surprised him. He had thrown Sam to the ground before throwing him against the wall. Dean had heard Sam's ribs snap just like that. Dean was able to finish what Sam had started, but Sam was already injured pretty bad.

Dean wished that he had done better, but that was the beginning of his cold, right when his senses were starting to become sluggish and loopy. He should've told Sam that he was probably not feeling up to the hunt, but he hadn't. He had tried to tough it out just like he always had. Now they were in this predicament that Dean should've avoided. 

"ItcsHShshsHS!"

Dean smothered a sneeze into his jacket sleeve as he walked out of the connivence store and climbed into the Impala. He rubbed his hands together to warm them before he set the bags in the passenger seat. It had been a real battle to force Sam not to come with him, but it had been for the best. Sam could barely move without cringing or wincing and it didn't help that he hadn't slowed down either. He seemed to have this strange workaholic personality to find a new case. Besides, the nightmares wouldn't leave him be and both of them hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

"ItshhsSHshshSH"

Dean propelled himself forward, his head almost colliding with the steering wheel. He felt the warm mist spray his hands that clutched the wheel. Dean stifled a groan before he sat back, rubbing a wrist underneath his streaming nose. He felt the stickiness and cringed at how disgusting he probably was right now. Yep, it was official; this cold was kicking his ass.

Again, it wasn't his ass that he was worried about. It was always Sam’s. Sam was being beaten up by not only lack of sleep, but now an injury that rendered him almost useless thanks to that Wendigo. If only Dean had been a second earlier, then his brother might not be in as much pain as he was in right now.

Dean leaned back in the seat and coughed painfully. He felt his chest seem to expand and contract at the same time. It was as if someone was squeezing his chest, or better yet, sitting on it. Not only that, but his throat was raw beyond belief, his nose was clogged with unbelievable amount of congestion, and his head felt like it was full of cotton. He hadn't feel this shitty in years. 

"I can't go back there," Dean whispered to himself as he felt another tickle in his nose. He grumbled to himself before he shoved his wrist against his nose and pushed it upward. He growled to himself, and when it did nothing, he geared up for another explosive fit.

"Huh'itcsHSHSh! Eh'ItcshsHSsh! ItsHscshsHSsh!"

Dean barreled forward and rubbed at the sides of his face in discomfort. It felt like his head was going to explode from the pressure. Not to mention all of the snot that his body was producing. He snorted back an unbelievable amount of it before he realized that he was going to have to blow his nose. Luckily, he had bought supplies.

He rummaged through the supplies, grinning as he produced a box of tissues. He plucked out a handful of them and blew his nose so loud and hard that both of his ears popped. He coughed in the aftermath and slumped in the front seat. He snuffled back what congestion he couldn't expel, which sent him coughing again.

"This sucks," he sputtered painfully.

There was no way that Sam could catch this. He tried not to think about it as he grabbed the magazine that he had swiped from the counter while he was checking out. He cracked it open and started to read it. It was something boring about which football team was set to win the Super Bowl. Considering that he didn't watch it, it didn't prove any interest to him. He flipped the page when an article certainly caught his gaze.

"What is this," Dean asked as he coughed painfully and skimmed it quickly. "Rib fractures can be made worse by any sort of infection and or bacteria....colds and excessive coughing can lead to ribs to rub or even puncture a lung....They can eventually lead to pneumonia. Pneumonia? Isn't that like bad?"

Dean didn't know too much about pneumonia, but he did know that Sam had contracted it right before he left for Stanford. Sam had been in the hospital for a few days with IVs shoved in his arms and an oxygen mask over his face. Dean hardly remembered that since he had been sick and feverish also with a pretty nasty flu—which was the illness Sam had before it turned into pneumonia. Their father had paced for hours on end because of it, wondering if he should've done more to help his son. However, Dean didn't know much about it, other than it wasn’t something that you wanted to have. Someone should know more about it, and that left the only person that might know about it more than he did: Bobby.

Bobby knew about everything. He had to know about pneumonia.  
  
Dean sniffled powerfully before he took his phone and dialed Bobby's number. He lifted the tissues to his face to cough into as he heard the dial tone.

"Dean, that you?"

"Yeah, Bobby, it's ItcsHsHShh! Ugh, me," snorted Dean as he extended his arm so that he wasn't sneezing in Bobby's ear.

"Balls, son, you sound horrible! What have you been doing, swallowing stones?"

Dean snuffled again. "Not yet. It's just a really bad cold, Bobby. But, I need your help with something."

"Is it about some new hunt? Because I think that you should probably take it easy."

"I know. It's not about that, Bobby. I need to know about a medical condition. I need to know about pneumonia."

"Pneumonia! How sick are you?"

"ItchsHSHshh!" Dean grumbled as he rubbed the tissues on the underside of his reddened nostrils. "Sorry, Bobby. I'm not that sick....yet. I just read something about how broken ribs can cause pneumonia and I think that it's true. I just don't know much about it."

"This is about Sam, isn't it?"

"How do you know," Dean asked.

"When isn't it about your brother? Now, how much to do you know about pneumonia?"

There was a pause as Bobby held his breath. "Well, not too much. I mean it's horrible. It's liquid in the the lungs and sometimes they cough up blood and most of the time it can lead to hospitalization, fevers, coughs, and other flu symptoms. It's nasty if that's what you want to hear."

Dean leaned back and pinched the sides of his nose, trying to alleviate the building pressure. "Not really. I just know that Sam can't catch this. Please, Bobby. You have to be able to give me some advice." 

"Advice? Like what? Don't get sick? What do you want me to do about it?"

"ItcshshsSHsh!" Dean blew his nose noisily. "How far is Aspen, Colorado from you?"

There was a scattering of papers before Bobby laughed. "13 hours."

"I guess that means that I'm not going over there," sighed Dean as he let out another harsh cough. "Do you think that Cas would be available?"

"I guess that's for you to decide. But, just don't stay out too long. I got a call from Sam earlier. He sounded pretty out of it."

"It's just the lack of sleep. The nightmares are terrible and his injury isn't helping," Dean replied before he sniffed back again. "Thanks again for the information, Bobby."

"Don't mention it. Now, get some rest some idgit. I just hope that Sam doesn't catch whatever it is you have."

With that Bobby hung up and Dean sighed heavily. He closed the phone and tossed it in the passenger seat. It landed on the box of tissues and Dean dissolved into silence until his nose started to tingle once more.

"ItcshsHShh! IcshsHShh! IcshshSHhh!"

Dean smacked his forehead against the steering wheel as mucus streamed from his nostrils and fell on the steering wheel. He gasped in shock before he cupped his hand over his nose and tried to protect what little dignity he had left and his baby's steering wheel from anymore abuse. 

He reached over and grabbed more tissues to blow his nose. He let out a honking blow before he cleaned up the steering wheel, wiping the snot away. He threw the tissues on the floor in the passenger seat, suddenly realizing that Sam was going to be in there at some point. He had to keep Sam safe and one way he could do that was to clean up his snot rags from the Impala. 

He groaned as he leaned forward and started to clean up the tissues that he had discarded. He tucked them inside the plastic bag and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes. There was only one thing left to do. He had to summon Cas.

Dean climbed out of the Impala and was thankful that the store had closed. He really didn't want anyone to question why he was there calling into the night for an Angel of the Lord. If someone called the cops on him then he wouldn't be able to explain much and Castiel was even worse with the whole lying thing.

Dean walked forward, trying not to stagger since his fever was probably spiking at this time. He rubbed his temple furiously, looking into the darkness with only the stars shinning right about him, causing a small flickering of lights.

"Cas. Hey, Cas, I need your help! Cas, I know that you can hear me. So, either you are ignoring me or—“

"I'm not ignoring you, Dean."

Dean spun around and saw the familiar presence of an angel in a trench coat. He wasn't sure that he was ever going to be used to seeing that, considering that when he first knew that angels existed he never thought that they could look like that. But, after he got to know Cas, he felt that he couldn't be that bad—most of the time anyway.

"So, how have you been," Dean asked as he clapped his hands together, awkwardness settling in his lax stance.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "That is not of import, but I do believe that we are loosing the fight," he replied in almost a pant.

"Hey, you okay," Dean asked as he watched Castiel turn from high and mighty to slightly hunched over.

Castiel shot Dean a look before he could take another step to him. Dean threw up his hands as he gave a soft cough against his shoulder. "I suppose I could inquire the same of you."

"Doesn't count," argued Dean as he gave a powerful hack toward the ground as he shook a finger in Castiel's direction. "I'm not the one that is angel most wanted."

"I don't believe I am—“

"ItshcshsHShh! IcshsHSshh! HhsHShsh!"

Dean sneezed heavily into his elbow. He rubbed his nose back and forth against it, struggling to straighten and look to Castiel, a bit dazed. 

"God bless you," Castiel offered politely. "Are you ill?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "What was the first clue, Sherlock," Dean flashed as he massaged at his chest with a knotted fist. There was so much crap in there that was making his cough sound worse than it was.

Castiel offered him a more than confused look. "My name isn't—“

"It's an expression, Cas. You would know that if you actually did anything besides what you were supposed to do." Dean doubled over and grasped at his knees as he heaved a few more breaths, the back of his hand pressed against his nose to keep it from dripping onto his shoes. "Anyway, I didn't call you here to explain human expressions to you. I called you here for something else."

Castiel looked confused as ever if the telltale head tilt and tent of his eyebrows was anything to go off of. "Why have you summoned me here?"

"I know this is going to sound strange, but Sam is—“

"If you're requesting that I heal Sam, I can't," Castiel confessed as his gaze met Dean's fevered one. "Besides, I must return to heaven. They require my attention."  
  
"And we don't here," snapped Dean, the force of his words inducing a coughing fit. Only this fit didn't end right away. His hacking echoed through the small space before his knees buckled and he almost fell face first on the pavement.

Castiel was at his side in a heartbeat and looped his arm around Dean's shoulders before his legs buckled and took Dean with them. Castiel kneeled beside him and tried to steady him. Dean looked over to him and noticed something faintly blue almost seeping out from underneath Dean's fingers. Dean drew back in shock as he felt warm and sticky blood mixed with something else.

"Cas," he choked out.

Castiel shook his head dismissively, struggling to hold Dean’s weight. "It's fine. It barely hunts," he grunted reassuringly.

"Angel blade," Dean asked, sniffing wetly.

Castiel looked at the wound and at the grace that was slowly seeping out. "Just a jab," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"It doesn't look like just a jab to me," Dean pointed out as he tried for a closer look. "ItcshshsHSh!"

Dean fell forward a bit and held his breath as he realized just where he had sneezed, Castiel's shoulder. He saw the spray against his tan trench coat and held his breath. "Sorry, Cas."

"It is quite alright. God bless you, Dean," Castiel offered, helping Dean stand once more, favoring his side as well. "I'm afraid that I must return to heaven. My healing abilities are altered here. I must return."

Dean gritted his teeth. He had wanted Castiel to help with Sam. Or, at least be able to watch him for a bit, or maybe even knock him out for a few days. However, he understood why that couldn't happen. Castiel was injured and needed to return home and that's exactly what he was going to do. Dean was the one that had to be there for Sammy since he didn't have anyone else.

"You should go," Dean told him. "You look awful."

Castiel said nothing more as he straightened and took a step back. "Feel better, Dean." With that he disappeared with a flapping of wings. Dean looked around to make sure that he was really gone before he forced himself back over to the Impala, feet dragging, lungs throbbing with each labored breath. He climbed in and started it, hearing the engine turn over. Now to the inevitable: to the motel and to Sam.


	2. Sick and Sicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues try and keep his distance for an injured Sam, but Sam isn’t making it easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with more fluff. This story was super fun to write and has a pretty happy ending. I just couldn’t help it. I hope that I was able to keep them in character since that’s always what I worry about the most is making sure they sound like they do in the show. Let me know if you enjoyed it as I love reading everyone’s comments and seeing who’s left kudos. It brightens my day almost more than anything else!

Dean pulled up in front of the motel and parked the Impala, pulling the key from the ignition. He quickly grabbed the tissues and cold medicine that he had bought, as well as some heavy duty pain medication, and sleep medication for Sam. He highly doubted that he would be able to get him to take it, but he would at least try. Besides, he would have to be cryptic. He couldn't have Sam getting sick over this. That would be one of the worst things that he could imagine. He would feel awful if every cough or every sneeze caused him excruciating pain.

He tried to ignore it as he climbed out of the Impala and headed to their motel room. He opened the door to the room and walked in. He let out a breath of anger as he saw Sam hunched over his laptop at the small dining room table. He looked beyond uncomfortable as he sat almost at an angle, so that he didn't hurt his ribs when he moved or breathed.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean chided when he looked over at him. "What are you doing? Aren't you tired, man?"

Sam didn't answer.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sammy. ItcshsHSHhh!" Dean bent at the waist as he cupped his hands over his face so that he contained the sneeze mostly to himself. He straightened when he realized exactly what he caught. "Dabit!"

Dean rushed over to the bathroom with his hands still clamped firmly over his face. He opened the bathroom door with his hip before he turned on the sink and started to wash his hands and his face. He blew his nose on a wad of toilet paper and washed his hands again. He usually wouldn't go to this lengths, but Sam couldn't get sick. This was all for Sam. It always was all for Sam.

Dean emerged from the bathroom and saw that Sam was still sitting there. He was furiously typing away and Dean had absolutely no idea what he was looking for. In fact, he didn't want to know. He just knew that Sam needed him and he had to be his big brother, just maybe from a distance.

"Sam, did you hear me," asked Dean as he came over to his brother, hoping to get him to move without actually touching him. "It's late. It's almost three in the morning, I think that it's time for bed, don't you think?"

Sam didn't answer once more. 

Dean forced himself to come around and slammed the laptop closed. Sam had enough sense to pull his fingers back before they could be crushed. Sam looked straight forward, almost as dazed as Dean felt, except without the fever. 

"Sam, come on. I know that it hurts, but you need to go to bed. You'll feel a lot better when you're laying down," Dean suggested as he elbowed Sam in the shoulder gently to at least grasp his attention.

Sam turned his head as if realizing Dean was there for the first time. He looked up at brother. "Dean?"

"The one and only," Dean joked as he smiled at Sam. "Now, how about the two of us get ready for bed?"

Sam tilted his head in confusion, hazel eyes alit in scrutiny. "Why do you sound like that," he asked as he stretched out a hand toward Dean's chest.

Dean took a frantic step away from him almost like Sam was toxic. "No, Sam. I sound like that because I'm sick. I have a cold and I don't want you to have it, okay? So, you're going to do your best to help me out."

Sam looked more than confused as he slowly nodded, grimacing. "Was it the last case?"

"I don't know, but the rain and cold weather probably didn't help," Dean replied with a small shrug. Sam had a very special ability to twist things around so that it was always his fault. He always did it, but now it was sometimes difficult for Dean to explain to him that it wasn't always—or usually ever—his fault.

Sam nodded as Dean motioned to the bathroom. "Maybe you should get changed from your 'I just have my ribs broken by a Wendigo' look," Dean suggested as he headed over to his duffle to find something more comfortable to sleep in. 

Suddenly, he heard a thud. He spun around and saw Sam laying sprawled on the floor, legs slightly bent and eyes fluttering. Dean's heart rose in his throat in terror. "Sam!"

He came over to Sam's side and rested a hand on his forehead. Heat burned under his fingers, burning Dean to the touch as he drew it back, shaking out his right hand. Sam's eyes opened slowly, gasping in surprise. He tried to sit up, but he doubled over in pain and fell back down, groaning.

"Shit, Sammy," Dean fretted as he moved Sam on his back. Sam stared up at the ceiling, still breathing heavily. His breathing was almost as loud as Dean's, which was loud and thick because of congestion. "What did you manage to do to yourself?”

Sam sucked in a heavy breath. "Hurts."

"I know that it does," Dean sympathized as he looked at him as he tried to figure out how he was going to get Sam comfortable and into bed in this condition. He was weaker than weak and the lack of sleep and broken ribs wasn't helping. "But, I'm going to fix it or at least help with it."

Dean suddenly felt a sneeze come upon him almost too quick for him to cover. He managed to twist partially away from Sam and sneeze directed at the ground. 

"ItcshSHhh! IcshsHShh! IcshHshHh! HitcshHshh!"

The sound would've probably caused Sam to jump if he had any strength to do so. "Bless you," Sam whispered as he craned his head to look over at his brother, face twisting in pain.

Dean sniffed deeply before he nodded at his brother. "Please tell me you can stand on your own?"

Sam might've thought about it, but he didn't move. "I-I don't think so," he stammered in embarrassment, round eyes trained on the floor.

Dean grumbled to himself. This was exactly what he didn't want to do. Unfortunately, he had no one else to call on. He was going to have to do this on his own. "Okay, well, I'll help you up, but then you're on your own, got it?"

Sam said nothing as Dean clambered behind him and hauled him to his feet. Dean shifted so that he was almost under Sam since Sam was taller than him. Dean hoisted him up and kept him there, seeing that Sam probably couldn't walk on his own without doubling over in pain.

Dean helped Sam over to the bed and he fell back down. He breathed heavily and groaned at the agony with his hands almost pulling at his t-shirt to where the black and blue mark was and where his ribs had snapped. Dean could only imagine how much pain Sam actually was in.

"ItcshsHshh! ItsshHShsh! Ugh!"

"Dean," Sam called.

The only sound that Sam heard in return was the sound of Dean blowing his nose. Once he was finished, he headed back over to the bathroom and washed his hands once more. He came out of the bathroom and looked over to Sam, concern showing in his fever bright gaze.

"Did you call me?"

"Are you really washing your hands after that," Sam asked in shock. "You've never done that before.”

"Yeah, Sam, but I wasn't trying really hard to make sure that you didn't get sick," Dean blurted before he even realized that he had said. 

Sam blinked his eyes at his brother in confusion. "You're trying really hard to not get me sick? Why?" While Dean had never tried to get Sam sick before—at least not to his knowledge—he had never been so adamant about keeping Sam from catching illness from him before either.

"First: because I'm told it's polite. Second: because I've read that if you catch a cold while you have broken ribs it can lead to pneumonia. That's the last thing that I want to happen to you. Sharing colds is one thing, but pneumonia is a whole different ball game. Besides, the reason that you're injured is probably because I was sick and not on my game. I should've been sharper and you paid the price," Dean rambled feverishly.

Sam nodded slowly while he tried to turn on his side. He buckled in agony, but Dean extended a hand to try and hold him steady. "Easy, Sam. You're not helping yourself! You're so weak that you can barely move ItshcHSHs!"  
  
"And you sound like you swallowed sandpaper and cotton at the same time," Sam commented with a roll of his eyes.

Dean chuckled. "Really, smartass? Well, I can't argue with you. But, at least I can move," he coughed as he twisted completely around to avoid coughing on Sam.

"You're still sick," Sam croaked.

"Want to make me feel better? Just do as I say," he explained as he left Sam's side and headed over to the medicine and brought out some ZZZQuil and the strongest pain meds that he could find without a prescription. Hopefully the two of those would knock Sam out for a little bit.

He poured a small amount of liquid into the small cup and brought it over to Sam. "I'll help you sit up, but you have to swallow this, okay," Dean told him in a sweet voice. He knew that Sam wouldn't go for it unless he bribed him a little bit. That was how it was dealing with Sam.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "I'll only take it if you take your own medicine," he told him firmly.

"Deal," Dean told him without missing a beat. "Now, let's get you up." He grasped Sam's shoulder gingerly and hauled him to a sitting position. Sam winced in pain and Dean saw the black and blue mark on Sam’s side tense and flex with each movement. He tried to look away since it just reminded him of his failure.

He brought the cup up to Sam's lips and tipped it in. "Swallow it in one go. It's not that bad."

Sam grimaced at the taste, but did as Dean said. He tried to lay back, but Dean kept him upright for the time being. "Not yet," Dean chided with a sniffle. "You need to take some pain medication. I can't have you moaning through the night," he teased.

"Just like we can't have you snoring," Sam shot back.

"Looks like someone must be feeling better if you're throwing insults," pointed out Dean warmly before he grabbed the Tylenol and water. "Ready?"

Sam gulped. "Yeah, I guess so," he sighed.

Dean let out a small moan as he turned away, pushing his nose so hard against his palm that he thought it might actually snap off. Sam, who was still leaning against Dean, glanced at Dean with surprise showing in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Eh....sneeze....." Dean panted through uneven breaths, almost rocking forward. He spun around and lifted his elbow to his face, trying to be as careful as possible not to jar Sam at all.

"ItcsHShh! IcshsHShh! ItcsSHShh!"

Sam tried not to cringe since every time Dean sucked in a breath in preparation, Sam moved with him, and every expulsion caused him to almost lean forward, his ribs aching. Sam tried not to whimper in pain or let Dean know how much his movements had hurt him. Instead, he watched as Dean tried his best not to let any of his germs contaminate Sam.

"You finished," Sam asked.

Dean gave a small sniff before nodding. "Fine, Sammy. Let's just get you medicated and sleeping," Dean told him, snuffing back congestion as he tried not to rub at his nose again.

Dean grasped the glass of water and the Tylenol and helped place the pills in Sam's mouth before bringing the water to his lips. He swallowed it down, leaning against Dean, his head rested on his shoulder. For some reason in this position Sam felt the pain ebb ever so slightly.

"You feeling tired yet," Dean asked once Sam had almost drifted off.

Sam shook his head. "Please don't go," Sam whispered, afraid that if he even moved an inch the pain would return. "I like it here."

Dean chuckled as he turned his head away from Sam. "I don't think that it's a good idea, Sam. I could get you sick and-“ 

"I'll be fine. Just until I fall asleep and then you can move," Sam begged as he looked in Dean's direction, liquid orbs of hopefulness glowing on his face.  
  
Dean's head was still faced away from Sam, but Sam understood why. Dean breathed heavily, steadying himself, until he finally looked back to his brother. "Just until you fall asleep and then I have to leave, okay? I can't get you sick."

"That's fair," yawned Sam as his eyes started to close, knowing full well Dean still wouldn’t leave his side even after the younger Winchester fell asleep. “Thanks Dean."

Dean lifted hand as he stifled a sneeze against his hand. "Itshsxx!" He sniffled back the congestion and smiled. "Don't mention it, Sammy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys enjoyed it and are staying safe and healthy! Also, if anyone has any idea or prompt let me know. I’m always looking for new ideas and inspiration for writing my favorite brothers.


End file.
